Saturday, December 29, 2012

Les Miserables: Fantine and M. Madeline

M. Madeleine had Fantine removed to that infirmary which he had
established in his own house. He confided her to the sisters, who put her
to bed. A burning fever had come on. She passed a part of the night in
delirium and raving. At length, however, she fell asleep.
On the morrow, towards midday, Fantine awoke. She heard some one breathing
close to her bed; she drew aside the curtain and saw M. Madeleine standing
there and looking at something over her head. His gaze was full of pity,
anguish, and supplication. She followed its direction, and saw that it was
fixed on a crucifix which was nailed to the wall.
Thenceforth, M. Madeleine was transfigured in Fantine's eyes. He seemed to
her to be clothed in light. He was absorbed in a sort of prayer. She gazed
at him for a long time without daring to interrupt him. At last she said
timidly:—
"What are you doing?"
M. Madeleine had been there for an hour. He had been waiting for Fantine
to awake. He took her hand, felt of her pulse, and replied:—
"How do you feel?"
"Well, I have slept," she replied; "I think that I am better, It is
nothing."
He answered, responding to the first question which she had put to him as
though he had just heard it:—
"I was praying to the martyr there on high."
And he added in his own mind, "For the martyr here below."
M. Madeleine had passed the night and the morning in making inquiries. He
knew all now. He knew Fantine's history in all its heart-rending details.
He went on:—
"You have suffered much, poor mother. Oh! do not complain; you now have
the dowry of the elect. It is thus that men are transformed into angels.
It is not their fault they do not know how to go to work otherwise. You
see this hell from which you have just emerged is the first form of
heaven. It was necessary to begin there."
He sighed deeply. But she smiled on him with that sublime smile in which
two teeth were lacking.
That same night, Javert wrote a letter. The next morning be posted it
himself at the office of M. sur M. It was addressed to Paris, and the
superscription ran: To Monsieur Chabouillet, Secretary of Monsieur le
Prefet of Police. As the affair in the station-house had been bruited
about, the post-mistress and some other persons who saw the letter before
it was sent off, and who recognized Javert's handwriting on the cover,
thought that he was sending in his resignation.
M. Madeleine made haste to write to the Thenardiers. Fantine owed them one
hundred and twenty francs. He sent them three hundred francs, telling them
to pay themselves from that sum, and to fetch the child instantly to M.
sur M., where her sick mother required her presence.
This dazzled Thenardier. "The devil!" said the man to his wife; "don't
let's allow the child to go. This lark is going to turn into a milch cow.
I see through it. Some ninny has taken a fancy to the mother."
He replied with a very well drawn-up bill for five hundred and some odd
francs. In this memorandum two indisputable items figured up over three
hundred francs,—one for the doctor, the other for the apothecary who
had attended and physicked Eponine and Azelma through two long illnesses.
Cosette, as we have already said, had not been ill. It was only a question
of a trifling substitution of names. At the foot of the memorandum
Thenardier wrote, Received on account, three hundred francs.
M. Madeleine immediately sent three hundred francs more, and wrote, "Make
haste to bring Cosette."
"Christi!" said Thenardier, "let's not give up the child."
In the meantime, Fantine did not recover. She still remained in the
infirmary.
The sisters had at first only received and nursed "that woman" with
repugnance. Those who have seen the bas-reliefs of Rheims will recall the
inflation of the lower lip of the wise virgins as they survey the foolish
virgins. The ancient scorn of the vestals for the ambubajae is one of the
most profound instincts of feminine dignity; the sisters felt it with the
double force contributed by religion. But in a few days Fantine disarmed
them. She said all kinds of humble and gentle things, and the mother in
her provoked tenderness. One day the sisters heard her say amid her fever:
"I have been a sinner; but when I have my child beside me, it will be a
sign that God has pardoned me. While I was leading a bad life, I should
not have liked to have my Cosette with me; I could not have borne her sad,
astonished eyes. It was for her sake that I did evil, and that is why God
pardons me. I shall feel the benediction of the good God when Cosette is
here. I shall gaze at her; it will do me good to see that innocent
creature. She knows nothing at all. She is an angel, you see, my sisters.
At that age the wings have not fallen off."

M. Madeleine went to see her twice a day, and each time she asked him:—
"Shall I see my Cosette soon?"
He answered:—
"To-morrow, perhaps. She may arrive at any moment. I am expecting her."
And the mother's pale face grew radiant.
"Oh!" she said, "how happy I am going to be!"
We have just said that she did not recover her health. On the contrary,
her condition seemed to become more grave from week to week. That handful
of snow applied to her bare skin between her shoulder-blades had brought
about a sudden suppression of perspiration, as a consequence of which the
malady which had been smouldering within her for many years was violently
developed at last. At that time people were beginning to follow the fine
Laennec's fine suggestions in the study and treatment of chest maladies.
The doctor sounded Fantine's chest and shook his head.
M. Madeleine said to the doctor:—
"Well?"
"Has she not a child which she desires to see?" said the doctor.
"Yes."
"Well! Make haste and get it here!"
M. Madeleine shuddered.
Fantine inquired:—
"What did the doctor say?"
M. Madeleine forced himself to smile.
"He said that your child was to be brought speedily. That that would
restore your health."
"Oh!" she rejoined, "he is right! But what do those Thenardiers mean by
keeping my Cosette from me! Oh! she is coming. At last I behold happiness
close beside me!"
In the meantime Thenardier did not "let go of the child," and gave a
hundred insufficient reasons for it. Cosette was not quite well enough to
take a journey in the winter. And then, there still remained some petty
but pressing debts in the neighborhood, and they were collecting the bills
for them, etc., etc.
"I shall send some one to fetch Cosette!" said Father Madeleine. "If
necessary, I will go myself."
He wrote the following letter to Fantine's dictation, and made her sign
it:—

"MONSIEUR THENARDIER:—
You will deliver Cosette to this person.
You will be paid for all the little things.
I have the honor to salute you with respect.
"FANTINE."

In the meantime a serious incident occurred. Carve as we will the
mysterious block of which our life is made, the black vein of destiny
constantly reappears in it.

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